


What if we ruin it all, and love like fools

by SmilinStar



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilinStar/pseuds/SmilinStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come find me when you're ready.” Outrunning fate was never going to be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What if we ruin it all, and love like fools

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song “Fools” by Lauren Aquilina. Tried something different here, not sure it worked but hey ho.

\-----

 

 

It's a bright, pleasantly warm, entirely ordinary Wednesday afternoon when Caroline kisses him goodbye.

 

His cheek is rough and unshaven under her fingertips, lips strangely cool against hers and there's a wetness sliding down their skin, and she's not sure which one of them those tears belong to.

 

She doesn't open her eyes to look.

 

Doesn't turn around to see as she walks away.

 

There's just the rustle of the leaves with the wind, and the quiet, almost silent, sound of heart break.

 

 

\-----

 

_She wanders off on her own. Tries not to think too hard about why she jumped so high, so fast at the task of picking up more firewood._

_She knows her enthusiastic cries of “I'll go, I'll get it!” were pathetically transparent; and it's not like she didn't miss the raised eyebrows of both Bonnie and Elena, or Stefan's eyes lighting the side of her face aflame as he stared at her, all-knowing and far too disappointed than he had any right to be._

_It's dark and cold, and even with her hands in gloves, stuffed deep into her pockets, she's afraid the tips of her fingers may just fall off with frost bite._

_She's not sure why any of them had thought camping out was a good idea._

_Or why she'd agreed to it in the first place._

_Huffing, she bends to pick up some wood, and isn't surprised in the least when she hears footsteps._

_His, to be precise._

_“_ _Caroline,” he says, and she bites her tongue at the hint of exasperation creeping through._

_“_ _Stefan,” she replies, keeping her voice as flat and as unaffected as she possibly can._

_“_ _You do realise why these guys roped us into this, don't you?”_

_She laughs, and it sounds far too bitter and not like her at all, “I am not that blonde.”_

_Even with her back turned to him, she can almost see the wry upturn of his lips, knows he knows just how she feels about any and all hair colour related jokes, and duly opts to keep his mouth shut._

_“_ _You know you can't keep running from this forever.”_

_“_ _Yes I can.”_

_“_ _If you think I'll just give up and walk away, you're wrong.”_

_“_ _You'll be standing there for a very long time, Stefan.”_

_“_ _That's up to you.”_

_“_ _Stefan . . .” and she's not sure what else there is to say as she turns around to face him._

_“_ _Caroline,” he says, as if it's a matter of fact, an unshakeable truth written in stone that she will, “Come find me when you're ready.”_

_She closes her eyes, and opens them to find him gone._

_His message loud and clear._

Your turn.

 

 

\-----

 

 

For all his promises of never walking away, it must be some sort of cosmic joke that she's the one who turns tail and runs.

 

He can still feel the weight of her in his arms, smell her as if the air around him is static and un-shifting. He can see her in everything around him and he feels it like a pressure building at the back of his head, pushing at the boundaries of darkness, cajoling him into opening those gates and letting _him_ free.

 

It looks the same.

 

The old Salvatore boarding house looks the same.

 

And it shouldn't.

 

_It just shouldn't._

 

So he lets it fly.

 

Channels the hurt into rage and lets it fly.

 

Glass after glass, shattering on the floor, burning in the fire, and Damon's bourbon drenching the carpet (but he's not here to miss it anyway). He turns the table on its head, the legs snapping in his hand with the brute force, the wood cutting into his skin, but it doesn't soak away the pain.

 

He's done this once before, he remembers.

 

Seems like an age ago, different time, different girl. Except, not really.

 

“Stefan?”

 

The voice is soft, an underlying tremor hiding behind the two syllables, but he recognises it all the same.

 

She stands there, wringing her hands, eyes dark and serious, sad and apologetic, shining with tears. Once upon a time, he would have moved mountains to erase that pain. Now, he's barely suppressing the urge to add to it.

 

It isn't fair, he knows.

 

It's not really her fault.

 

(Although, it really is).

 

“I'm so sorry,” she says, taking one, then two steps further into the destruction, “It's all my fault, and now Damon's so mad, and Caroline-”

 

“Don't.”

 

It's harsh and cold, and does the trick.

 

She stops still, and snaps her head up to look at him. “Stefan, please. I don't know what happened, I-”

 

“Elena,” it's practically a growl leaving his lips, “Leave. Now.”

 

He wishes he never looked at her then.

 

She's looking at him like she used to.

 

Difference is, he's not looking back at her the same.

 

 

\-----

 

_It ends up being like something out of those damned, cliché ridden, romantic movies she loves so much._

_It's Elena's birthday party, and of course, where else would Caroline throw it but at his house, because as Damon explained,_ it'sboth of theirs, and it's huge, enough to fit all their friends (people they don't really know, but hey, who cares, they need the numbers) and also the décor is so dreary, it's nice to brighten it up now and again.

_He can't argue. Truth be told, doesn't want to, because after the months of avoidance, it feels like she's going out of her way to see him – Elena's birthday a mere excuse to hide behind._

_He can't help the little bubble of hope inflating inside him._

_It just keeps on getting bigger and bigger as the day wears on, and even after their guests pour in, he can still feel it, an uncomfortable presence, ready to either burst or fly._

_And then she makes her entrance._

_She'll later swear, she really hadn't been trying to steal the limelight from the birthday girl,_ cross her fingers, put a stake in her heart, and hope to die. _Whether she had or hadn't, is beside the point, because yes, cliché as it is, she's all he ends up seeing._

 

_Dressed in a beautiful, deep blue, strapless dress that falls to her knees, hair done up, and a look of sheer determination on her face, she's absolutely stunning._

_Caroline doesn't really give him much time to think on it. She spots him quick enough, and without even pausing for breath, she's crossing the expanse of the living room in a few quick strides and then she's there, right in front of him, pulling him down by the lapels of his jacket and kissing him. Hard._

_There may have been some whoops and cat-calls and somewhere in the distance the mutterings of_ finally _but he doesn't care as he smiles against her lips and kisses her back._

 

_She loops her arms around his neck and pulls back just enough to see his face._

_She doesn't say anything, but the words are in her answering grin._

 

I'm ready.

\-----

 

The tears have barely had enough time to dry before Caroline is boarding the first bus due east. She doesn't even bother to look at the destination across the front, just carelessly compels the driver to let her on without a ticket, finds a window seat at the back, and closes her eyes so she doesn't have to see the Mystic Falls sign as she crosses the border for the last time.

 

No one sits next to her and she thinks the waves of despair coming off her are the perfect deterrent.

 

Stupid.

 

She was so stupid to think it would last. To think she could have him. To think the universe would let her.

 

Because Stefan and Elena.

 

Elena and Stefan.

 

It's all she hears now, screaming inside her head.

 

How fucking stupid was she?

 

Yet, she hadn't even been angry. Couldn't be, because some part of her deep down had always known and so the only person who deserved her anger, her hatred, was herself.

 

She was lucky to get as much time with him as she had, before destiny, fate, whatever the hell you wanted to call it came calling.

 

It’s okay, she tells herself, as she wipes the last tears she'll shed from her face. _It’s okay._

She gets a fresh start.

 

And this time, she has an eternity to get it right.

 

 

\-----

 

 

_She wakes to an empty space beside her, and for a moment there's a flash of fear that strikes in her heart. It lasts a few seconds too long before she settles her heart rate, concentrates, and finally hears it._

_There's music spilling out from the radio, but more importantly, it's accompanied by the sound of him humming along, all to the background noise of breakfast crackling away in a hot frying pan, and she can't help the mile wide smile that takes over her entire face._

_She feels giddy, more alive now than she ever has (which given the givens is a little ironic, but hey,_ whatever _)._

_She stretches her limbs and looks around Stefan's room, at the mess they made, and blushes._

 

_There are pieces of her strewn all over it, her dress on the other side of the room on the floor, her shoes nowhere to be seen. There's a broken lamp on the floor, along with most of what else had been on his table and she bites her lower lip with the memories of just how that had happened._

_Shaking her head of the thoughts, she climbs out of bed and grabs his grey t-shirt. Pulling it over her head, she tiptoes out of there and down the stairs barefooted._

_Stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, she leans up against the frame and just watches him._

_She feels like_ that girl. _The one in the movies who gets to fall in love with their best friend and have them love them back. Who gets to spend an amazing night with them and wake up to find them cooking her breakfast. Simple, normal,_ human, _things._

_She sighs. A sound of nothing but pure contentment._

_He turns around then, a smile on his face as he gazes at her._

_“_ _Hey,” he says._

_“_ _Hey,” she smiles back._

\-----

It's Bonnie who comes to find him days later.

 

He's sitting in _her_ armchair in front of the fire, staring into the flames, debating all the reasons why he shouldn't flip that switch. The incessant pressing at the back of his head hasn't stopped for a minute. The alcohol only manages to numb him for so long, before the nagging feeling in his gut starts up all over again.

 

He looks pathetic, he knows.

 

Sitting there in a drunken daze, eyes unfocussed, fingers barely holding on to the glass in his hands – one of only a few he has left that hasn't been shattered to pieces in a fit of rage – he looks lost, alone and entirely miserable.

 

Still, it's something else to have it voiced aloud.

 

“Well, don't you look pathetic.”

 

He turns to see Bonnie Bennett walk into the room and there isn't even a tinge of mockery on her face. She just looks sad, and somehow, that's a whole lot worse.

 

She takes the seat opposite him, and sighs.

 

“I hate this,” she says.

 

He purses his lips and nods once since it sums it up so perfectly, “Yeah.”

 

But she's not done. Not by any means.

 

“You know I love you all, and you guys are my friends, but you're all idiots.”

 

He blinks up at her in surprise.

 

“Stupid, insecure idiots. Why is it so hard to believe someone loves you?”

 

He opens his mouth, and says nothing. It seems Bonnie's on a roll. Ever since she returned from her 1994 prison, she's been different, stronger in a good way - believes in herself more, doesn't let their crap bring her down. He's envious, if he's being completely honest.

 

“Damon just had to keep pushing, didn't he? Couldn't for one second let himself be happy. And Elena? She's my best friend, I love her like a sister, but honestly? I really just want to shake her or slap her, because Caroline is my best friend too, and she deserves better than that. And you?”

 

She grabs the drink out of his hand and stands up then, right in front of him, “What the hell are you still doing here?”

 

There's something about the tone of her voice, and he thinks it must be some of her magic at work because he finds himself standing, not even remembering actually pushing himself up and out of the chair.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

She shakes her head in exasperation, and pushes against his chest, “Go after her!”

 

“She doesn't want me to.”

 

“I've known Caroline my entire life. _I know her._ So believe me when I tell you, _yes she does_.”

 

He wants to believe her. He really does. But then he remembers her face, her refusal to accept all explanations, her backing off from not only him, _but them,_ and finally her pleading not to make it any harder than it already was and he never being able to do anything but put the happiness of those he loves before his own, and so doing just as she asked.

 

He looks back at Bonnie.

 

Sees a strength shining from her eyes that he wishes he had.

 

There's a twitch of a smile on her lips, and a glimmer in her eyes that all seem to say, _“Well, why can't you?”_

 

He looks down at the floor, before directing his gaze back to the flames, “I don't even know where she is. I don't even know where to start looking.”

 

And then Bonnie is smiling at him, although it's more a self-satisfied smirk which looks a little too familiar, like he's seen it a hundred times before on someone else's face, “You're forgetting who I am Stefan.”

 

“Ahh,” he says with a tilt of his head, and growing hope he hadn't dared to even try to cultivate before now.

 

_Of course._

\-----

_“_ _Shut up.”_

_The smirk on Damon's lips doesn't falter. Stefan doesn't even have to turn around to be certain of that. He's also positive he's wiggling his ridiculous eyebrows up and down, trying to insinuate who knows what._

_It's not like it isn't common knowledge that he and Caroline are together._

_He figures it's just what older brothers are meant to do when their younger one gets a new girlfriend. He wouldn't know, since they've never been in this situation before - they've never not been in love with the same girl._

_It's nice._

_Not having the drama._

_He claps his hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “I'm kidding Stefan. I'm happy for you guys, really. Blondie's good for you._

_“_ _And besides,” he tacks on, “you wear the dopey, love-struck puppy look well.”_

_He shakes his head and says again, “Shut. up.”_

_There's no malice behind it. It's hard to work up even a small shred of annoyance, not when Caroline turns around just then. She's mid-laugh whilst in conversation with Elena and Matt and looks straight at him. The laughter ends in a radiant smile, and it's all for him as she catches his eyes._

_“_ _I take it back,” Damon is saying, and Stefan's not sure he wants to know where he's going with this, as he drapes an arm across his shoulders and leans into his side, “You're good for_ each other.”

 

_That surprises him. He hadn't expected the note of seriousness and can't help but turn to look at him, eyebrows raised, except Damon's still looking over at Caroline._

_“_ _I haven't seen her smile like that in a long time,” he continues, “not since Liz, and we might not be each other's biggest fans but . . . it's_ nice.”

 

_He grins, “Damon Salvatore. The big bad blood-sucking softie.”_

_“_ _Shut up.”_

\-----

She ends up in New York.

 

It takes several buses and trains, but she somehow gets herself there without really planning it at all.

 

There's a bubble of hysterical laughter that reaches up from the depth of her lungs and out from her mouth as she steps out onto the main concourse of Grand Central Station. She thinks its kind of predictable she ended up here.

 

She'd always wanted to come.

 

Had always imagined the hustle and bustle of the big city would suit her perfectly. Back when she'd been a bright eyed, eager to take on the world, and make a place for herself, seventeen year old _human_ girl, New York had always been high on her list of places to conquer.

 

But then she'd been smothered to death by Katherine Pierce alone in a hospital bed and those dreams had died along with her last gasping breath.

 

Mystic Falls had become a tomb. But with nothing there to keep her now, no one there to stay for, she realises it doesn't have to be.

 

This could be a fresh start. She could finally do what she'd always wanted to, and _live._

 

A voice in her head taunts her with a mocking scoff. _Really?_ It laughs. _So you're not just running away?_

She's already a crazy person laughing in the middle of a busy train station, doesn't think it wise to add to it by answering out loud to the cynical voice in her head.

 

She could switch it off, she thinks.

 

But then she'd only be proving it right, because, no. No she isn't running away.

 

No, she isn't switching it off. Because damn it all to hell - Stefan Salvatore, and Elena Gilbert, do not have that much power over her. No they don't.

 

And so she takes a deep breath, in and out, hauls her bag over her shoulder and pulls her little suitcase behind her as she walks out of the station and on to the noisy, teeming streets of Manhattan. She effortlessly hails down a cab like she's done it a million times before, and silently toasts to new beginnings.

 

If she ignores the shoddily patched up gaping hole in her chest as if it's nothing more than a paper cut, then that's her business and no one else's.

 

 

\-----

_She can't believe this version of themselves is nearly six months old. It simultaneously feels like it's been forever, but just as easily, it all feels so new, and fresh and exciting._

_Most of the time, she can't quite believe its happening. That it's real._

_She's folding her laundry when he sneaks into her dorm room, wraps his arms around her waist and drops his head down to nuzzle the side of her neck._

_She leans back against him instinctively and laughs, “Hey.”_

_“_ _Hey,” he says as he kisses the bare skin of her shoulder, and tightens his grip, “I missed you.”_

_“_ _It's only been a couple of hours.”_

_“_ _Seven and a half.”_

_She grins, and turns in his arms._

_“_ _Well whose fault is that? What took you so long?”_

_The smile on his face dims, and it's hard to stop the little crease in her forehead as she frowns with worry, “What? What's wrong?”_

_He sighs, and it's a little tired and sad, “Elena. She and Damon had another fight and I kind of got caught in the middle of it.”_

_“_ _What do you mean?”_

_“_ _Look, I don't even know what it was about this time around, but I ended up trying to play peacemaker and it doesn't even matter, because they've kissed and made up and I'm sure, right at this moment, probably a whole lot more, if you catch my drift-”_

_She wrinkles her nose and shoves him lightly on the shoulder, “Eww, stop, I did not need to know that.”_

_The smirk on his face morphs into a grin, and the brief stirrings of panic and insecurity fade away as he pulls her in even closer and captures her lips with his. She breathes into the kiss, and wraps her free arms around his neck._

_The lingering doubt about the vagueness of his explanations, the completely evasive non-answer, are pushed to the back of her mind and buried, as he walks her backwards on to the bed._

_She topples down on to her back and giggles as he comes down with her. He smiles at her, one arm holding himself up so she's not crushed by his entire weight, the other hand reaching up to trace a finger down the side of her face and push back her hair. His eyes are bright and earnest and she believes him wholly when he whispers, “I love you.”_

_She always does._

\-----

 

Bonnie's locator spell has him standing in the middle of the Plaza Hotel lobby, and he kind of just wants to laugh, because really? He's not sure he needed one of Caroline's old necklaces and witchcraft to find her, he should have known she wouldn't be able to resist the lure of the big city. And yes, a tiny part of him had been scared she'd head off in a different direction and end up in New Orleans, but despite everything that's happened, he _knows_ her, and knows that however much she's hurting, however angry she is, _he's_ not something she'd truly consider.

 

He walks up to the front desk and doesn't even bother to come up with a believable, manufactured story that would manipulate the concierge into giving him Caroline's floor and room number, just opts to dive in with compulsion and get straight to the point.

 

She is more than accommodating, but sadly it's not what he wants to hear;

 

“Oh I'm sorry sir, a guest by that name vacated her suite two nights ago.”

 

He drops his head on to the desk with a thud, as the woman looks on nervously, “Uh sir, are you okay?”

 

He wants to laugh.

 

He is so far from okay.

 

He's angry at himself and his naivety, at Elena and her inconsistency, at Caroline for running and not giving them a chance. He's angry he'd gotten his hopes up and mostly he's just tired.

 

Tired of love being so damn hard.

 

“But isn't that what makes love worth it?”

 

He lifts his head up and blinks slowly, not even realising he'd spoken aloud.

 

The woman must be in her late fifties at least, but time has been good to her. She has a kind smile, and eyes behind thin framed spectacles that look as if they've seen their fair share of heartbreak for a lifetime.

 

He doesn't answer her, not really sure he knows the answer if he's completely honest, and he's not sure she does either as she sighs, “She booked a taxi to take her to JFK.”

 

He purses his lips, nods his head once, and breathes out an “Of course she did.”

 

 

\-----

_In hindsight, he figures he probably should have seen it coming._

_The warning signs had been there. Glaring, flashing in neon bright colours._

_His once fraught relationship with Damon had finally appeared to be healed over. They had never been in a better place, and he couldn't have been happier. He had his brother, he had Caroline. It was perfect._

_He should have known it couldn't last._

_He's not sure what started it all, or just who was at fault. He wasn't privy to the details of their relationship, but it was clear there were cracks in their foundation that neither had ever addressed. Add that to Damon's insecurities, his growing relationship with Bonnie that left Elena out in the cold, though never intentionally or even knowingly, and it was all just a cascading ball of disaster, rolling down a hill, getting bigger and faster, gaining momentum, just waiting to crash._

_The more he and Elena had fought, the more Damon pulled away from him. The playful jibes and banter were being replaced by awkward silence or sly, probing questions, all underlined by a hint of accusation. By the time he'd figured it out, it was too late._

_One minute she's ranting and raving in the middle of the Salvatore living room, Damon having stormed out fifteen minutes ago, the next she's standing there with tears spilling out from her dark eyes, tumbling down her cheeks, and she's staring at him like he's the answer._

_“_ _I should go.”_

_She nods._

_“_ _Do you want me to call Bonnie, or Caroline maybe?”_

_“_ _No.”_

_“_ _Okay,” he says, and he knows she's crying and ordinarily he would never be so callous as to leave someone he cares about alone and in distress, but there's an uneasy tension building between them, and he doesn't know what to make of it. All he knows is, it's dangerous, sending every last hair on the back of his neck standing to attention. And so he moves to leave. Walks past her on the way to the front door, but then she's reaching out and grabbing hold of his arm._

_“_ _Stefan . . .”_

_He stops, although his legs scream at him to move._

_Move. Run. Don't turn around._

_He turns._

_She stares up at him, “Stefan,” she says again, her eyes wet and wide, “I never should have-”_

_“_ _Elena,” he cuts in, “Don't.”_

_“_ _I'm sorry,” she whispers, apologising for what he's doesn't know, before leaning up and pressing her lips to his._

\-----

 

It's kind of impressive they're still standing. Though it is worth noting that they probably wouldn't be able to walk in a straight line even if she compelled them to in their current state.

 

But still, they _have_ (somehow) managed to drag her by the hand and pull her out of the bar they'd been sitting in for the past four hours, navigate the traffic and endless streams of people littering the streets, and not fall off the sides of Westminster Bridge and into a not particularly pretty River Thames.

 

One of them even manages to enunciate the words, slurred though they may be, “Come onnn, Caroline, we're gonna miss ittt.”

 

At this point, she doesn't think it a bad idea if they did.

 

She's no longer in the mood to party.

 

She's gone from super buzzed to super depressed drunk, and the hunger pangs are starting up again with a ferocity she knows she's going to have trouble containing.

 

Josie, Jodie . . . Jenny? She's not sure what her name is, something beginning with a letter J anyway, pouts pleadingly at her and she barely manages to not roll her eyes. She's a pretty brunette with doe eyes and her stand-in best friend for the night. And if she bears any resemblance to someone she used to know, it's not intentional and nor is it her subconscious mind trying to tell her something, because, just . . . _no._

And as for the other gaggle of girls, she hasn't bothered with learning their names. Not much point really.

 

She's done with London.

 

It's been a fun week, but she thinks she's had her fill of the cold, wet and windy weather of the UK. She thinks October probably wasn't the best time of the year to show the city off in all it's glory.

 

Maybe she'll come back in the summer.

 

But for now, she's done.

 

“You guys go ahead, I'll meet you there.”

 

There's a collective groan, “Caaaare.”

 

She can't help but wince, though they're completely oblivious.

 

“I just want to take a walk along the embankment and take some photos of the Houses of Parliament,” she lies, “It looks pretty at night.”

 

The truth being she's spotted St Thomas's behind her and wants to try her luck at raiding their blood banks, since she's running dangerously low on stock.

 

“Fine,” they huff, but with a little more pushing, they stagger off in the direction of the underground station and she's left to appreciate the solitude.

 

She takes a moment to breathe in the cold night air, leans up against the wall lining the side of the bridge and stares along the length of the river as it narrows off into the distance and disappears into the skyline. Letting the noise of the city fade into the background, she hears nothing but the quiet sound of her breathing and the steady thrum of a pulse that shouldn't really even exist.

 

She's not sure how long she's been standing there before she hears it. It's soft, carried away in the wind, calling out her name, _Caroline._

She shakes her head.

 

_Caroline_ , it calls again. A little louder, and insistent.

 

She freezes, thinks she's losing her mind. But it calls again, and her head turns to follow the sound, and when she finally looks down, she finds him. Standing along the embankment, looking up at her with familiar eyes and a look of sheer longing that takes her breath away.

 

And so, she runs.

 

 

\-----

 

 

_She's not sure why she's surprised._

_She should be so mad. So so_ so _furious, but all she is is empty, so heartbreakingly hollow._

_“_ _I'm so sorry,” she's pleading, crying endless tears, “I don't know what happened. I never meant for it to happen. Stefan loves you, okay. I kissed him, he pushed me away, he loves you, Care, he loves you.”_

_The sad thing is, she believes her. She really does._

_But there's one question she's not answering and she needs to know._

_“_ _Why?” she asks._

_And Elena's looking back at her with wide eyes, and she can see the lie shining from them when she shakes her head and whispers, “I don't know.”_

_“_ _Yes,” Caroline snaps, “Yes, you do.”_

_“_ _Caroline, please.”_

_She walks away to the sound of Elena's pleas, and wants to laugh when she steps inside her home only to find him standing there, looking sick with anxiety._

_“_ _Caroline, please,” are the first words he says, and then she really does laugh, “Please listen.”_

_“_ _It's okay,” she says with a calmness she can't comprehend as she drops her keys and hangs her coat on the rack, “Elena's already explained and I know what happened-”_

_“_ _But I didn't-”_

_“_ _I_ know,” _she says, turning to face him, and the weak smile on her face lets him know that the trust they'd built between them isn't broken, and she can literally see his shoulders sag with the relief._

_But neither is her trust in fate._

_Because Stefan and Elena._

_Elena and Stefan._

_She can't run away from it any longer._ They _can't._

_“_ _But?” he asks, staring back at her with fearful eyes._

_“_ _But,” she starts, and then they're both wishing he'd never asked._

\-----

His relief at finally finding her is short lived.

 

She runs. Again.

 

And he doesn't waste a second to sprint after her.

 

She's fast but not fast enough, but that's not the only reason he catches her.

 

She stops suddenly.

 

Just stops.

 

And he's not sure why, but he really doesn't care because somehow, she's standing there. After all this time, she's standing there, within his reach, staring at him with a myriad of emotions flitting across her face and he can't hold on to a single one before she shuts it down and its nothing but a blank canvass in front of him.

 

“What are you doing here, Stefan?” There's a maelstrom of emotion hiding behind those words, and he can hear the strain of keeping them at bay.

 

He swallows, before choosing his words, “Running with you.”

 

She narrows her eyes and tilts her head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

 

“If you're hell bent on running from fate, then I'm gonna run with you.”

 

She shakes her head, “Stefan . . .” and there's just a glimmer of hope in her eyes and he holds on to that as he steps forwards, closing the gap between them.

 

“You did all the talking last time, I just listened,” he says, “See, I have this habit of doing what everyone else wants me to, and not listening to my gut, not doing what I want when I know they're wrong and _I'm right.”_

 

There's a smile lingering at the corner of her mouth, her eyes becoming red and watery and not because of the wind, “So I'm wrong?”

 

“Yes,” he nods emphatically, “Yes, you are.”

 

He takes another step forward, the front of his jacket now brushing against hers.

 

“So here's the plan Caroline Forbes,” he continues, “if you want to keep running, I'll be there, right by your side.

 

“And one day you'll realise,” he reaches out with both hands to cup her cold cheeks and wipe away a stray tear, “You and me? It was _always_ gonna happen.”

 

It takes a second to sink in, and then she's laughing, and it's a beautiful sight to behold. She drops her forehead on to his chest, and lets him wrap his arms around her and holds on tight.

 

He kisses the top of her head and asks after a moment, hope spilling from his lips, “So, where to next?”

 

She pulls back and answers, “Wherever we want.”

 

 

\-----

 

 

_He watches her pack her bags, and can't help but think they're missing something._

_As if fate has plans that neither of them can grasp._

_It's a thought that lingers long after she walks out the door._

\-----

 

 

It's a beautiful, sunny Wednesday afternoon in June when they arrive in Florence, Italy.

 

Stefan has a mischievous glint in his eyes, and a smile that won't leave his lips.

 

His tells are easy enough though. After all these years, she knows him, can read him just as easily as he can her.

 

The sun is warm on her skin and she can finally put a name to the feeling blossoming in her chest.

 

“What's that smile for?” he asks, as he wraps an arm around her.

 

“You were right,” she simply says as she looks back up at him.

 

There's a moment of confusion that darkens his eyes but then she spots it, the very second understanding dawns and then she's there to pull his lips down to meet hers before the self-satisfied grin on his face spreads any wider.

 

Caroline makes peace with fate that day, tipping her hat in defeat.

And somehow, it isn't all that bad.

 

 

 

 

  **End.**

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
